


Bad Dreams

by Firgolfin



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompt, comfort after a nightmare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 14:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4063039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firgolfin/pseuds/Firgolfin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"No! Demon! Begone!" Cullen woke with a gasp. He sat straight up, his whole body tense like a bowstring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pixiedurango](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixiedurango/gifts).



> Prompt from pixiedurango: I dare you: Write something for Cullen (when ever with whom ever) to the Song "Demon Love" from ASP

_******  
_

 

 _"Now you've torn down my walls_  
_The walls built to protect me against this"_

 

_******_

 

"No! Demon! Begone!"

Cullen woke with a gasp. He sat straight up, his whole body tense like a bowstring. He was panting and drenched in sweat, his hands clenching into fists, grabbing the... no, not cold stone as he was expecting, but soft blankets beneath him. He groaned and blinked in confusion, then glanced around quickly, trying to figure out where he was and what was happening around him.

His gaze wandered upwards, to the ceiling; shining stars and a bright half moon were shining peacefully through the large hole above him and his racing heart began to calm down slowly. He rubbed his face and groaned again, exhausted but also somewhat relieved.

He was in his tower, in his bedroom. At Skyhold. It had only been another nightmare. _This_ was real, he wasn't back _there_ , he wasn't–

An unexpected motion nearby him caused him to wince slightly.

"Cullen?" the Inquisitor mumbled sleepily and he felt the warmth of her hand placing on his thigh, caressing his skin lazily. He took a deep breath, he _remembered_ , and her gently touch helped him relaxing just a little bit more.

But the dream was still lingering in his thoughts, he felt sick and exhausted as always when he awoke after a nightmare.

"I'm here," she murmured, cuddling closer.

"I know. Sleep, love," he whispered after clearing his throat; he laid his hand on hers, but then he heard her soft sigh as she shifted her body in the large bed and sat up beside him.

"Bad dream again?" she asked softly, but it in fact was more an assessment than a question, for she already knew, of course she did, and her gaze met his. Still half asleep, her hair a tousled mess, eyes barely open, but her expression was full of tenderness, but also concern, sorrow. She always suffered with him, and he wished she had a deeper sleep and wouldn't wake up every time he dreamt.

"Well, I... yes," he answered, "but it's over. I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean to worry you."

Except that it was unlikely that he would find sleep again this night, he thought, assuming that he would, caused by a lack of sleep, have to face a strenuous next day.

"You can let me worry just a little," she said with a smile which was full of warmth, "you know that, right?" She laid her hand on his cheek and her words eased his heart. This woman really was a gift from heaven. Maker, how much he loved her. He couldn't imagine a life without her. Not ever.

"Alright," he smiled and kissed her forehead.

But then she asked, "Do you want to talk about it?" and he froze in place. There it was. The one question he always answered the same way, and the words came out automatically, "I'd rather not. Forgive me."

Usually, she would leave it at that, but not today. "Have you ever?" she continued asking.

"What? Talked about my dreams?"

"Yes."

"No. Never," he avoided her gaze.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you, not at all. I–I only thought that, perhaps it would help if you'd just try it."

"Maybe..." he shifted his position and sighed.

"It's only been a... thought."

"I know that."

"I'm sorry. Forget about it." The disappointment in her voice was well hidden, but he felt it nonetheless. He knew–she wanted to help but felt so useless in those nights.

They both kept silence for a while, and he found himself considering her ask.

Maybe it _would_ help.

After all, she had proven several times in the last years they'd spent together–first as friends, then as lovers–that she would not turn away from him. She'd seen him in both, his best and worst times. And he trusted her. Deeply; more than he'd trusted anyone before.

And now, after all this time, she was finally about to break down his last walls.

She seemed to sense it. Still, she said nothing but squeezed his hand as if to encourage him.

And it worked.

Finally, he started talking, tentatively at first, but after a while the words fell easier from his lips.

He told her, and she listened silently, patiently, holding his hand the whole time.

They spoke until dawn colored the sky in the richest colors, and Cullen, though still being in an emotional turmoil, finally recognized that _breathing_ had just become a bit easier.


End file.
